


Jingle Around the Clock; Or, How Thomas and Manu Saved Christmas

by OodlesOfNoodles (Mist_Bubble)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, Christmas, Cupcake-y Goodness, Fluff and Crack, Santa's Helpers, The Grinch - Freeform, doesn't make sense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mist_Bubble/pseuds/OodlesOfNoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Tis the season of Christmas... but the little town of Deutschland finds itself with problems. Someone has decided that this town doesn't deserve Yuletide, and is out to wreck everyone's holidays. Benni and Mats can't cope up with their *cough*kids*cough. Marco and Mario are trying to have a romance, thank you very much; but their bosses just can't seem to let them. Armani model Sami has just discovered that his cute assistant, Mesut, has a crush on his longtime friend, the legendary Cristiano. Even the mayor, Bastian, is having some unexpected differences with his longtime partner Lukas.<br/>And to top it all off... Manu couldn't care less about the fact that the town baker, Per, has gone missing- but he does miss the Nutella.<br/>So... off go Thomas and Manu to save Christmas! (And get Nutella.)</p><p>Alternately, the seasonal fic that, for everything written in the summary, is pure fluff and crack. Die Mannschaft celebrate Christmas in their own weird, unique way!! Yay!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bread Pitt

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm not extremely new to the football fandom, but this is the first fic I've written- heck, the first fic I've ever written- and I chose crack. Yay! I would love some thoughts and encouragement to keep going! This first part is only the beginning- I had this scene in my head that would NOT GO OUT, and I thought, well, let me try writing it down. :)  
> I will try to update regularly. I just wanted a Christmas fic- which is weird, because I'm not Christian, but who cares? The feeling is in the air!  
> Summary sucks, I'll change it later once I know better where this is going. :)  
> And oh, the title is from 'Jingle Bell Rock' :)
> 
> Please don't sue me, I'm a broke high school kid who at last decided to write RPF. I promise you I know and mean nothing by this- and I don't even know if this is OOC, but well, this is an AU, so.

_Every Who down in Who-ville_  
 _Liked Christmas a lot,_  
 _But the Grinch,_  
 _Who lived just north of Who-ville,_  
 _Did NOT!"_  
— Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

 

The Grinch did not like Christmas.

He hated the Christmas trees around every corner. He hated gifts, he hated decorations, and it would probably be wise not to get him started on the stupidity of mistletoe. About the only thing associated with Christmas he didn't have an active aversion to was jolly ol' Saint Nick, but that was primarily because he hadn't believed in him since he was six.

So yes, Christmas sucked.

But the worst, the absolute worst- it had to be the food...

*

"That _song_ , Manu!"

The shriek echoed through the bustling square, but hardly anyone bothered to turn around. When you live in the same town as Thomas Muller for a very long time, you tend to stop noticing him- even when he's running through the streets with a red woollen shapeless thing bouncing from his shoulders.

Manuel Neuer reluctantly dragged his (handsome, amazing) face from where it was stuck to the frosted window of Bread Pitt, the town's resident ~~bakery~~ paradise. It hadn't always been called Bread Pitt. The owner, a tall fluffy giant named Per Mertesacker, had put up a sign when he started the bakery seven years ago that read 'Per's Cupcakes'- a perfectly normal name for a bakery. But Thomas had nicknamed it Bread Pitt the first time he'd bit into one of the heavenly red velvet cupcakes and declared it as delicious as Brad Pitt (aka Heaven). Three years later, Per had decided to get rid of the original sign, which marked the first time in history when one of Thomas' ideas had ever been vindicated.

"Come on, Manu!" Thomas whined. But Manu didn't really want to tear his eyes away from the best thing he'd ever seen in his life.

"You can't ignore me! You know we agreed we'd never let anyone play that abomination of a song. It's a damn insult to a classi- Manu, what on earth are you doing?!" This last part was rather hard to make out as it had devolved into a full-blown scream of terror.

"Nutella!" Manu sighed, running his tongue around the glass as though he could fall through it into the bakery and into heaven.

Thomas looked fascinated. "How does the snow taste when mixed with glass? Hey, I wanna try too-"

"What are you- ugh!" Manu jumped away when he realized that he'd been licking the window. "Thomas. That's- what is that thing on your head?"

"This?" Thomas plucked at the thing on his head and gave Manu a sheepish smile. "It's, um-"

Manu stared at him, but no other words came out. A heavy silence fell.

"Thomas Muller," Manu said in a hushed whisper. "Are you... speechless?"

Thomas tried to stammer some more. His cheeks grew steadily redder.

Manu's eyes seemed to be bugging out of his head. "Are you actually _blushing_?"

Then it hit him. He sighed. "It's something for Miro, isn't it."

Thomas' face crumpled. He tugged at it and glanced at it sadly. "It's a sweater. I- I may have got stuck on it and messed up the pattern?"

Manu's mouth opened into a perfect O. Thomas continued in a low voice. "And I may have been on my way to ask you to help when I heard that song?"

It was on the tip of Manu's tongue to ask how Thomas had thought he'd ever be any good at knitting, but he relented because he was actually a good friend. "Fine. I'll help. I'll even help you find out who's playing that stupid song and give them a talking to." He'd better get some karma points added to his 'nice' list.

Thomas' face melted into a heart-warming smile. "Thank you thank you thank-"

"But not before I get some Nutella," Manu added because damn, priorities.

Thomas, for once displaying uncharacteristically acute powers of observation, blinked. "Why don't you just go inside instead of drooling at the window?"

"The bakery's shut." Because, really, Thomas' acute powers of observation were actually not that great.

The two of them waited at the entrance to Paradise for so long that Thomas began to fidget and even Manu's eyes twitched- that is, around ten minutes or so. Thomas' fidgeting got so unbearable in a pretty short while that Manu didn't say anything when he jumped up and began to pace around. Soon, Thomas had disappeared around the front door of the bakery, half-finished sweater still draped over his shoulder. Manu had taken to drooling at the window again, licking his lips in happiness as he thought of all the Nutella that would soon be his, when Thomas shouted once more.

"Manu! Benni and Mats' love child's coming along asking for you!"

Manu dragged his feet all the way to the front door of the bakery, scowling. A guy just could not catch a break, could he?

"Which one?"

"The middle one!"

The cute young brown-haired boy currently shuffling his feet on his way to the front door blushed and stammered as he held out a letter to Manu. "Um, Mr. Per, that is, Mr. Mertesacker asked me to give this to you!" he stammered. "And for the hundredth time, I am not the middle child-"

"Save it, Jule," Manu yawned, accepting the letter. "You know you'll stop being the middle one when Benni and Mats decide to adopt a few more kids."

"I don't-" Julian stammered, before giving in. That was the fifth time he'd tried to argue with someone about his not-family, and that was only this morning's count-

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Manuel's scream shattered the silence. He sounded so agonized, so tortured that even Thomas took a step back. Julian flailed.

Manu brandished the letter, holding it by the corner as though it pained him to even touch it, and continued to wail. Thomas looked at him, fearful.

"What's going on?" Julian muttered to Thomas, sounding as though he'd thought the world had ended.

"READ IT!" Manu shouted, throwing the letter so it landed in the snow. Hesitantly, Thomas bent to pick it up. 

_Dear Man U,_

Wait, why was he calling Manu Manchester United... oh, never mind. Let's begin again, Thomas thought, determined, staring at the letter.

_Dear Manu,_  
 _You must understand, I am not doing this for a personal reason. There are many in this wonderful town who will mourn, but you will mourn the most, and that is why I must tell you. I- Goodness, there is no easy way to put this. I'm leaving and the bakery is closed. Sorry._  
 _With sincerest apologies,_  
 _Per Mertesacker_

_PS- There is an up-and-coming baker in town by the name of Kevin Grosskreutz. You must try his grill sometime. He makes the most wonderful Doners. Just-ah- he's got a bit of a temper problem. And I don't- you know what? GO THERE, MANU._

All right, the world had officially ended.


	2. The Fine Art of Gift-Giving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Marco let that sink in. The thought sunk rather deeper than Erik had intended- it had somehow managed to wriggle its way to Marco's stomach, where it had woken up the hundred or so butterflies Marco had never even known he harbored. The said butterflies were currently celebrating their freedom with an impromptu quickstep- there was no other word for it.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah Gotzeus feeellsss....
> 
> Thanks so much for the encouragement, guys! I didn't have enough time, but I wanted to write something and post, so here you go. Hopefully it doesn't suck too bad! :)

Another thing the Grinch did not like was a Christmas gift. Now, because he was a typical recluse whom nobody had seen in recent memory, it was rather hard to figure out what exactly he hated about gifts. Did he not like the gifts because of what they represented- something akin to (God forbid) happiness? Did he have an aversion to the commercialization of the fine art of gift-giving? 

Or...Did he hate the bright red wrappers because they were just so messy to clean up the day after?

*

"But I know it's going to be great!"

Marco Reus sighed as he tugged at the boot of his car. "Erik. You don't even know him..."

"But it's obvious I should, he's going to be my new brother-in-law." Erik Durm paused to let that sink in, an expectant smile stuck to his face.

Marco let that sink in. The thought sunk rather deeper than Erik had intended- it had somehow managed to wriggle its way to Marco's stomach, where it had woken up the hundred or so butterflies Marco had never even known he harbored. The said butterflies were currently celebrating their freedom with an impromptu quickstep- there was no other word for it.

But then the thought began raising some disturbing visions. "Wait... so if you're my brother, then Mats is my dad, and that's kind of weird because I set him up with Benni and all-"

Erik's expression turned to one of alarm. "We agreed we'd never, _ever_ talk about that ever again!" What happened behind the doors of Number 15, 4th Street, would stay within the doors of Number 15, 4th Street- along with plenty of glitter, TRESemme bottles, and the thirty-one cups of coffee Marco had been forced to consume while waiting for Mats and Benni to finally figure out the meaning of life, the universe and everything.

"Fine." Marco kicked at the boot. Why wasn't it opening? 

"Come ooonnnn," Erik wheedled at his side. "I swear, I'm like the poster boy for all things trendy and in, I'll find you the perfect gift to impress your future husband!"

Distracted by the car, Marco blinked. "First off, anyone who says 'in' and 'trendy' is most definitely not 'in'. That's such a wannabe term, Erik. And second, enough with the husband jokes already!" But only because the butterflies in his stomach had upgraded their quickstep to a jive with old 1930s jazz songs playing in the background.

Oh-kay, so maybe going gift shopping with his second best friend in order to impress someone he'd only recently met wasn't such a bad idea. (At least the butterflies seemed to agree.)

Erik smiled even bigger. "So... you'll come pick me up this afternoon then?"

"Five?" 

"Excellent!" Erik hastily disappeared, knowing Marco would regret his decision in twenty seconds. The last thing an irate Marco heard as he kicked uselessly at the boot was, "This is going to be the most fun I've had since Bastian and Lukas' fifteenth anniversary!"

_(Five hours later)_

"I am not going to give up!" Erik shouted, picking up a bottle recklessly and all but throwing it at Marco. "Here, what about this?"

"Gourmet Olive Oil Sampler?" Marco read off the label. The bottle looked terribly expensive. "What is Mario going to do with an olive oil sampler?"

"I don't know, use it to get glowing skin or whatever!"

Marco gingerly replaced the bottle. "I don't think he needs his skin to glow any more, Erik."

"That would be, what, gift #28 rejected by now." Erik huffed. 

"I don't care whether you know him well enough or not, you're still useless at shopping."

"I met him for five minutes, and I spent three of those apologizing for spilling coffee on his jacket with Andre cackling behind. I don't even know where he works or what he does."

Erik, for the first time in two hours, cracked a smile. "You know I saw pictures right. And I will use them if you continue to sit on your bleached behind and moan about useless stuff when you could be finding the love of your life."

Marco deflated. "You don't have to play dirty."

"I'm just saying. You shouldn't give up, Marco. He's sure to be around here somewhere, right? You are going to find him and then I will throw a huge party to celebrate your Christmas miracle. It'll be epic."

Marco sighed, wistfully. "He doesn't even know me. He'll probably think I'm some stalker. Why oh why did I have to like somebody who's going to think I'm some pathetic loser?"

"Marco, Marco, earth to Marco!" Erik exasperatedly waved his fingers in front of Marco's face. "Ever heard of true love?"

"True love over a cup of Starbucks coffee and damaged jeans?"

"It's been known to happen!" Erik shrugged, defensive. "But it won't until you find the perfect gift for your boo. So come on!"

"Aren't we going about this the wrong way? First try to find him and get to know him and all and then find him a gift? And why are you so interested in my love life anyway?"

A strange light appeared in Erik's eyes, something which Marco, wrapped up in lovelorn desolation, failed to notice. And then it was gone, as quickly as it had come. "You know nothing about shopping, Marco Reus."

Marco blinked. "Did you just paraphrase a Game of Thrones line on me?"

"Like that's important!" Erik jumped up. "So, what do you think Mario will think about this Cuisine R-EVOLUTION Molecular Gastronomy Kit?"

*

Approximately eight miles away, a distracted Mario Gotze sighed as he looked at the faded pair of jeans he'd just got back from the cleaner's. He hadn't wanted to ever wash the stain away, but Jerome had insisted, confronting him after two days and telling him very firmly that 'he loved his foolishness and he'd got pretty good blackmail pictures of Mario moping, but they had work to do and distraction would NOT do, and did Mario really want him to let Lahm know what was going on?"

(Mario had gasped because it was an unwritten pact amongst their group that the legendary Philipp Lahm's name was only to be taken as a really, really desperate last measure. But then again, it was true that they were running behind and time was running out, and Mario was supposed to actually help and not sit around all day thinking of the handsome boy he'd met for five minutes, so he gave in.)

But right now it felt like he'd lost the only connection that would ever have been possible with mysterious, blond, endearing Marco. He closed his eyes. He couldn't cry. He'd try to find him again.

Christmas night. The one night he'd be free. He'd find Marco again, even if it was forbidden.

Mario bent over his work obediently and wondered why he'd ever been born an elf.


	3. The Fluff of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Schweinski household is being zapped with the Happiness Destroying Ray of Doom!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you get when you combine a sick senior high-schooler with the threat of exams around the corner?  
> You get someone who should have started this story a month ago.
> 
> SO SORRY for the long wait! I had some of this written out, but then I went down with the flu and was just feeling miserable the whole time. To cheer myself up, I began writing Schweinski fluff (this chapter was supposed to be Hommels and Samisut) which turned into something really weird.
> 
> Thanks for all the encouragement! It means so much to me that someone besides me is reading this stupidity. :)
> 
> I'm still going to complete this fic. The ending might just be pushed to- New Year's? :)

It took six tries before Bastian even opened his eyes, but Louis wasn't complaining. Six was an improvement on yesterday's eight, right?

Oh well, Louis decided, he was just going to take his victories where he could get them.

"Basti!!!!" he whined, prodding experimentally to make sure that he wasn't going to close his eyes again.

Somewhere buried beneath the huddle of blankets his dad groaned. "Getswijed!"

"It's okay," Louis offered before Basti could say anything. "I think he's dreaming about bells again."

Bastian smiled up at his adopted son. "Maybe," he said quietly, voice scratchy with sleep. He stretched and fixed Louis with a stare. Louis stared back for a while before he remembered what he was supposed to do.

" _Good morning, Basti_." He accompanied this with an eye roll, but Basti decided to look past that. There were limits to what six year olds could be asked to do.

"That's better, isn't it? Good morning, Louis."

"Can you help me with Mr. Phil Geezer?" Louis asked, finally coming to what he'd wanted to ask all along.

What... Basti decided he was not even going to ask. "Can that wait till after breakfast?"

"It's already seven," Louis whined. "Luan and Noah are coming over at ten, we have to be ready!"

The top of Lukas' head finally poked out of a pile of blanket. "Ketchup!"

Louis' eyes lit up. "Yes yes yes!! You're the best, Dad!" He jumped up and down in excitement as he turned and dashed from the room.

Lukas sighed. "Puppet," he explained to a bewildered-looking Basti. "No lipstick."

If nothing else, Basti thought, he really needed to understand Lukas' grumpy morning language. "Ah, I see."

The corners of Lukas' mouth twitched. "Ha."

Basti decided he's better change the topic. "Hey, you're awake before eleven."

Lukas' eyes widened as he promptly disappeared again. And this, Basti decided, was why mornings were not fun. Until Lukas dragged him down beside him for a morning kiss. And then Basti suddenly decided mornings were the best.

Scratch that, mornings were the best only with Lukas. God, mornings with Lukas were the _best_ , end of discussion.

A loud crash came from somewhere, accompanied by a squeak. Suddenly worried, Basti sprang to his feet. Even Lukas sat up in bed. "Louis, you all right!"

There were a few seconds of silence. Then a picture of misery slunk into the room, head down. "I broke the jar," he whispered sadly.

Basti let out a relieved sigh as he gathered Louis up. "Is that all?"

Louis blinked. "You scolded me last week for coloring on the wall."

"But you're all right, pumpkin, and that's what matters." Basti buried his head in Louis' golden hair. He could feel Lukas' eyes boring into him, and tried to turn around to include him in the hug. But Louis was clinging to him like a small sad octopus, so Basti ended up falling on the bed on top of Lukas, all huddled up.

Lukas just laughed as he rolled over and put out his arms. "Cuddle time!" His voice was so authoritative that neither Basti nor Louis would have dreamed of denying it, even if they'd ever wanted to. As all three of them huddled together, Lukas and Basti both hugging Louis in between them, and all was right with the world. The only thing that mattered was the three of them together, and for a moment Basti forgave all clichés ever written about warmth and happiness, because it was supposed to be like this all the time. He was with the two men he loved the most, and Basti could not imagine any other life he might have led. God, breaking it up with Sarah had been the best thing he'd ever done.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Louis' golden head and smiled as his eyes met Lukas'. Mornings with the sun shining outside and snow about to fall, Christmas around the corner, with Lukas and Louis Podolski by his side, were definitely the best.

*

Somewhere, huddled inside a lonely cottage, the Grinch laughed. Yeah, right. If there was one thing the Grinch could not bear, it was a happy family.

The Grinch decided it was time for the Happiness Destroying Ray of Doom ©.

*

Sure enough, chaos had taken over the Schweinski household the minute Lukas tried making pancakes for breakfast.

"We can just go to Uncle Per's," Louis piped up from where he was sitting and swinging his legs at the kitchen table. Basti grunted as he shoved the last of the burnt pancakes into the trash.

"We are never ever letting Per know I can't cook!" Lukas said a little wildly as he scrolled through _How to Make Pancakes: 9 Steps (With Pictures)_ on Wikihow. He made a mental note to let Wokihow know that the titles were getting a little annoying.

Louis rolled his eyes but he was smart enough to avoid his Dad's eye. See, Lukas could get a little obsessive about pancakes. He disliked making food in general, but pancakes were another thing entirely.

"At least he's all out of batter," Basti remarked drily, but he did it in the softest of whispers. He had no wish to hear another of Lukas' rants.

Lukas continued to stare intensely at the screen of his iPhone for so long that it started to get annoying. Basti and Louis exchanged glances. This was too painful to bear.

Basti crept to the side of the room. "I'll just-" he waved his hand vaguely as he stepped out, winking at Louis. He pulled out his phone as he went.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang out loudly, startling everyone in the room. _Jingle bells swing, and jingle bells ring! That's the jingle bell rock!_

Lukas jumped up as though he'd been shot. His eyes were wild. His mouth opened, but apparently all he could do was mouth soundlessly. Louis looked up, alarmed.

"P-Papa?" he asked, hesitantly. "What's-" Luckily, Basti sidled into the room, again, grinning, and saved him.

"Basti," Lukas breathed, his voice low. There was a sudden eerie calm to his face, which scared Louis more. Papa was never calm. He tended to get a bit overexcited, but that was all. "Didn't I tell you we will have no Christmas festivities in the house?"

Basti blinked, and then seemed to remember. He scratched his head. "You might have mentioned it, yeah, but Thomas thought..."

Lukas snorted, and all right, Basti deserved that one. "Since when has anyone ever paid attention to what Thomas thinks? Admit it, Basti, _you_ did it." He clenched his fists. "But-I-Asked-You-Not-To!"

Lukas' odd calmness unnerved Basti, too. He began backing away. "I just- come on, Luki, it's Christmas!" he pleaded.

"BUT WE DON'T CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS!!" Lukas yelled. He looked positively deranged.

Basti's anger began to grow. He exploded. "We never do! How do you think poor Louis feels when you force him to deny that it's Christmas? He doesn't get any gifts! It's just a harmless holiday, Luki, what have you got against it that you can't tell me? We've been together for eight years now and you get antsy every Christmas and you never bother telling me anything!" He strode up till he was in Lukas' face, full of anger and self-righteousness. "All I wanted was to spread some joy in this house! You expect me to keep quiet and just take it when you do the same thing year after year?"

"No, but I expect you to trust me!" Lukas yelled back.

For a moment both of them stared at each other, and Basti thought he could see something shimmering in Lukas' eyes, just out of reach. Then Lukas broke the stare and stepped back. "Forget it," he whispered. He looked broken. "I want- it's just-" he shook his head and stalked out of the room.

Basti remained where he was, staring after him. There was an awful silence. Guilt began to pool around in Basti's stomach. It was an uncomfortable feeling. He and Lukas so rarely fought- but they also had no secrets. At least, he'd thought so, and he'd dismissed Lukas' hostility towards Christmas as a kind of annoying quirk. But he had wanted to do something different this year. Something had urged him to ask Thomas for suggestions for a good ol' song; he'd even got Per in to help because Per was just as mystified by Lukas as he was.

"But there you go," Basti said aloud to himself. "Another Christmas ruined." And to think he'd been so happy this morning! He strode out of the kitchen blindly, taking care to go in the opposite direction.

Mesut Ozil walked into the room. "Look, I know you want me to keep this on the table, so I'm just going to- hey, Louis! Where's everyone?" He looked around in bewilderment, holding the basket of bread rolls he'd brought over when Basti had called him with an urgent plea for breakfast.

Louis just sighed.

Mesut decided not to ask. He'd had enough- incidents with Basti and Lukas' eccentric tendencies. He placed the rolls on the table and grinned at Louis. "Well, there's your breakfast, anyway. Was Lukas making pancakes again? What's he got against pancakes? I-"

"They're fighting, Uncle Mes,' Louis said seriously, cutting him short. He loved his Uncle Mesut, but he did tend to go on. "They're fighting and they never do and Mr. Phil Geezer is still stuck with a hole in his clothes and there's burnt pancakes and the day is ruined." He looked up at Mesut with his puppy eyes, and Mesut tried hard not to cry. It was tough.

Basti and Lukas fighting? This was serious. They never fought. Mesut found he didn't quite know what to say. He knelt by the boy's side and stroked his hair, trying to smile. "It'll be all right," he said gently. "They'll be back laughing about something soon enough, you'll see." He knew he didn't sound very convincing. He still couldn't believe that Basti and Lukas even _fought_. But he had to cheer Louis up or the universe just might end or break out into hives or something.

Louis nodded, biting his lip.

"And I promise you I'll- sh-AAGH!" Mesut had a hard time restraining himself from cursing in front of Louis. He looked down at his phone, unwillingly.

The screen lit up. _Where in the world are you? COME HERE NOW!_

Mesut exhaled. "Look, Sami wants me now, so I've got to go, but I'll be back when I have time, all right? Why don't you eat breakfast now? Trust me, things will be much better when you've eaten something." He pushed the rolls towards Louis and stood up. "Is anyone going to come over today?"

"Luan and Noah," Louis mumbled, picking at the rolls half-heartedly. "Uncle Miro's bringing them."

"All right!" Mesut smiled encouragingly. "Lukas and Basti will be back soon, just wait-"

"I don't need them! I'm a big boy."

"Oh, that's-" Again?

 _CODE RED OKAY!_  flashed across his screen. _I need you here now, Mes!_

Distracted, Mesut nodded. "Oh, fine, then I'll see you around, Louis! Bye!" Hastily he began to walk away. Was this an actual emergency?

 _Where_? He typed. The reply was instantaneous. _MATS'!!!_

Capslock? Wow, serious. As Mesut let himself out of the house he began to feel a little annoyed. He'd been wasting time helping Lukas and Basti out when he had stuff of his own to sort out. All right, maybe talking to Louis wasn't a waste of time, but fixing the Schweinski household was not his call. He had to go save an Armani model from- what, exactly? Mat's bottles of hair conditioners? God, models were such divas. Even Cristiano. But then, Cristiano was a good-looking diva, Mesut reflected as he walked. All smooth and handsome and charming. A total stunner. He'd smiled so charmingly at Mesut, even though he'd met him only once. And yes, Mesut might or might not be harboring a crush on him.

Yeah, Schweinski was so not his thing.

*

The Grinch yawned. This was getting so ridiculously easy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks SO MUCH for reading!!! Do leave some thoughts if you can! Sorry if it sucked too bad :P


End file.
